A Werhmacht captain approached through the clouds of smoke and saluted the SS officer.
"Major Steinhauser."
"Are you in charge here?"
“Yes, sir.”
"How did this happen?"
"It must have been a sabotage team, sir."
"I know that, you damned fool!" Steinhauser’s voice was raised in anger, and the officer before him cringed. "Did they come from the sea, or is this the work of a resistance group?"
"I don’t know, sir."
"Then find out, and find out fast!" He looked around. "I see no fire engine. Surely there should be one here?"
"It’s been destroyed, sir. I’ve sent for more from the city, and hundreds of men are coming from the barracks to help fight the fires. We’ll soon have it all under control."
Steinhauser nodded, his eyes icy. "I expect to see you in my office at midday, with a full explanation and a damage report."
The young captain saluted and turned back to the fires with an inaudible sigh. Facing the roaring inferno was infinitely preferable to facing the SS Major.
As Steinhauser watched the billowing clouds of smoke and leaping flames, he spoke in a voice full of anger to Dresner.
"Someone will pay for this, Karl. Someone will pay."
Angeline and Vincent sat with steaming bowls of coffee in front of them, the smell of baking bread wafting in from the open door to the bakery. Vincent took a sip of the scalding liquid, then smiled at his companion.
"It sounds as though someone was striking a massive blow for freedom last night."
Angeline raised a quizzical eyebrow, her heart in her mouth. Was he just talking out of sheer delight at the sounds of destruction coming from the docks during the early hours of the morning, or was he trying to link her with it? She forced a smile. There was no way he could know about her connection with the Resistance, it was all in her imagination.
"Yes" she spoke eagerly, "it sounded as though someone had planted some bombs at the docks. I wonder how much damage they’ve done?
"We'll know soon enough."
Angeline frowned. "How?"
"Because the reaction of the Germans will be in direct proportion to the damage sustained. The more damage, the more difficult life will be for us for the next few days."
"I hadn't thought of that." Angeline's eyes widened. Would someone else be punished for the part she had played in the attack? It was a sobering thought.
Vincent drained his bowl of coffee and rose to his feet.
"Come on now. That bread should be ready, and our customers will be arriving soon."
Angeline followed the baker back to work.
85
Major Steinhauser sat at his desk with Sergeant Dresner standing behind his right shoulder. The hands of the clock on the wall opposite were pointing to twelve o'clock when there was a knock at the door.
"Enter."
The door opened to admit a young German secretary in military uniform.
"Hauptman Schmidtt, sir."
”Show him in.”
The young captain entered nervously. Since speaking with Steinhauser at the quayside, he had been busy trying to salvage what he could from the mess at the docks. His uniform was dirty, even though he had attempted to smarten himself up before the interview.
”Well, Schmidtt, what have you to say?”
Schmidtt swallowed hard and licked his lips.
"As far as we can tell, sir, it was a group of saboteurs who must have got into the docks over the fence. Three ships moored at the quay have been damaged, but we can have them all sea worthy again within the week. All the transport at the docks has been damaged, mainly by small charges placed on the cylinder blocks. They will need new engines. There was damage to the rolling stock. That will take a long time to repair, so I’ve commissioned a civilian train to do any necessary work. Some of the tracks were damaged, but they are being replaced now. The siding should be back in use tomorrow."
"What of the stores?"
Schmidtt glanced at Dresner, but he showed no signs of being aware of the conversation, and Schmidtt looked back at Steinhauser. It was obvious he was going to take the blame for this, so he might as well get it over and done with.
"Forty per cent of food stores were destroyed. Ten per cent of clothing destroyed, and a further fifty per cent damaged. Seventy per cent of engine parts have been damaged in one way or another, and thirty per cent of the fuel supplies are gone."
Steinhauser’s face looked like thunder as he rose to his feet, his voice booming.
"Where was your security when all this happened?"
"Security was at its usual levels, sir. I don’t know how they got in."
"We can't afford this amount of damage!" Steinhauser thumped his fist hard on the desk. "I shall be recommending a transfer for you, preferably to the Eastern Front. Now get out of my sight!"
Schmidtt saluted, turned on his heel and marched from the room. As the door closed behind him Steinhauser sat down again.
“Well, Karl, that is how we deal with our own. But what about the French swine who are responsible for this?"
"Our informants have nothing for us." Dresner moved round to the front of the desk as he spoke. "We can offer a reward, but I have little hope of it being taken up."
"Do that. At the same time, I want you to take two hundred men to be shipped back to the labour camps in Germany. When these stinking French pigs see their families being taken away, they might be more inclined to help us find the bastards who did this."
Karl Dresner smiled.
"A brilliant idea Herr Major. I’ll get to work at once."
The notices were pasted up before curfew that day and were soon surrounded by silent crowds.
ATTENTION!
A reward has been posted for information about the enemies
of the state responsible for the hostile act perpetrated against
the Reich last night. Furthermore, the following men will report
to the railway station for transportation to labour camps at 10 a.m.
tomorrow. If any of these men fail to turn up at the appointed time
10 other members of their family will be taken in their place.
Signed
Major Steinhauser. SS
Below the notice was a list of two hundred names picked at random from the German files; the youngest a boy of fifteen, the oldest a man of seventy. As Angeline studied the notice, her eyes filled with tears. So many to suffer for the work of just a few. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to face Vincent who stood by her side.
"They must have done a great deal of damage to make the Germans do this."
"Is it worth it?"
Vincent frowned as he looked at her. "Of course it is. For the sake of all our countrymen who have died and for those of us who now suffer the occupation. Of course it will be hard for those who have to go, and for their families, but I’m sure that the majority of people are glad that the docks were attacked last night."
Angeline looked at the list again. It seemed so long. "Do you think they will all turn up?"
Vincent shrugged. "I don’t know. They’ve very little choice really do they? They can’t hide all the members of their families from the Germans."
Angeline shook her head, unable to speak. When she had joined the SOE she had been prepared to put her life in danger, but had not anticipated that others would suffer the punishment which should rightly be hers. Steeling herself, Angeline turned and walked steadily back towards the bakery. Being an agent was going to be difficult, in more ways than she could ever have imagined.
Angeline tossed and turned through the night, trying to come to terms with the German reprisals. She wished there was someone she could talk to about it, but knew that it would be too dangerous to try to contact Tony. She would just have to try to come to terms with the situation herself. As ten o'clock approached, she found herself cycling slowly in the direction of the railway station. She had not intended to go
there, but something compelled her to go and witness the scene.
She arrived to find that she was not the only one who had come to see the deportation. A large crowd had gathered, silently lining the square in front of the station entrance. A table had been set up, and an officious looking SS officer was seated behind it, checking off the names of the deportees as they arrived. They came slowly in large family groups, and all round the square small scenes of farewell were acted out. Angeline got down from her bicycle and stood at the back of the silent crowd, watching. In one corner a teenager hugged his mother and father, fighting manfully to overcome the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Not far away a man in his late twenties stood beside a woman, obviously his wife, whose eyes were red from crying; a small boy of five or six clung fiercely to his leg while he desperately clasped a little girl to his chest. With a sob, the man handed the child to her mother before kneeling to embrace the boy. As Angeline watched he stood and took his wife in his arms, his eyes closed as though to hold the memory tight within him for the rest of his days.
Angeline’s eyes roved over the square and its pathetic occupants. An old man clasped his wife to his chest; he was grey haired and weak, and it was obvious from their expressions that they did not expect to meet again in this world. Angeline looked at the faces of the people in the crowd. They were expressionless save for the eyes, which held all the anger, hatred and hostility which they were afraid to show openly in front of their German masters.
Soldiers began to separate the family groups, ushering the men with their one small pathetic bag up the steps and into the station. There were tears and final embraces, but no sound. The whole scene was enacted in silence, save for the tramping of soldiers’ boots and the murmured voices of German officers. As the final group of men made their way dejectedly into the station, a pathetic voce rang out.
"Papa! Papa! Come back! Papa!"
Angeline looked at the small boy who had so recently kissed his father goodbye. His mother was still holding his little sister in one arm, while gripping the boy’s hand tightly. He struggled to pull away and follow the man who had disappeared from sight.
Angeline mounted her bicycle and began to ride away, tears streaming down her face as the hysterical voice echoed around the otherwise silent square.
"Papa!"
Tony decided to stay on his grandmother’s estate over the weekend. Word of the German reprisals had reached them on Saturday evening. With the deportation due to take place on the Sunday morning, Tony wanted to stay out of sight. It was Monday before he managed to leave a message for Angeline at the fishing village.
The sun was bright, beating down on the water and making the reflections sparkle and dance as Angeline cycled down the road to the harbour. The smell of fish hung heavy in the still air and the day promised to be hot. Angeline’s white cotton dress was already beginning to stick to her in the humid atmosphere. As she reached the rotting boat at the end of the beach, she saw the bottle by the wall and knew there would be a message waiting for her. Leaning her bike against the wall, she made her way nonchalantly along beside it until she was right next to the boat; swinging her legs over the wall she sat for a while watching the fishermen unloading their catch, and surreptitiously made sure that no-one was watching her. When she was certain she was unobserved, Angeline casually reached a hand behind the nameplate of the boat. She retrieved the piece of paper, slipping it into her pocket without reading it. After sitting for a while longer, she slid down from the wall and made her way to the nearest fishing boat where she bought a small piece of fish for herself and Vincent before mounting her bicycle and riding back towards the bakery in Saint Nazaire.
In her room Angeline took the paper from her pocket and carefully de-ciphered it.
"Attack on docks success. German reprisals against civilians. Will plan another raid in two weeks."
She smiled. Brief and to the point. She would encode it there and then and send it home that night.
As Angeline made her way through the darkened streets she marvelled at how calm she felt. She was still very much aware of the dangerous situation she was walking into, but her senses were keen-edged. She would be aware of any danger soon enough to avoid it. Finding herself in the secluded spot where she planned to send her transmission, she considered herself lucky not to have come into close contact with any Germans. Patrols had been increased since the attack, but they tended to concentrate their attention on the dock and other military targets so that Angeline felt relatively safe in the bombed warehouse where she set up her radio and began to transmit to England. Within moments the message was sent, and Angeline was on her way back home.
86
Captain Dawson sat at his desk late at night, trying to get his paperwork finished before retiring for a well-earned rest. The desk lamp cast a pool of yellow light on the files in front of him, and he rubbed his tired eyes. Perhaps it would be better if he left it for the night and made an early start in the morning. There was a knock at the door and Dawson looked up.
"Enter."
The door opened to admit a WREN carrying a piece of paper.
"We've just received a message from Angeline in Saint Nazaire."
She held out the paper which Dawson took eagerly. "Thank you."
As the WREN turned and left the room he read the message, a slow smile spreading across his face. The attack had been a success. Of course it was not such good news for the Frenchmen affected by the German reprisals, but that was only to be expected. It looked as though Tony Kemshall had got himself a good team already, and Anna Weston, or Angeline as she was known, was proving to be a good radio operator. As long as things continued to go well for them, they should be able to make a great contribution to the SOE's work in occupied France.
Pushing the files away from him, Dawson rose to his feet and switched off the desk light. He was tired. The paperwork would have to wait until the morning. Picking up the files he locked them in the safe before leaving the office, a contented smile creasing his tired features.
87
It was a week since the attack on the docks. Apart from his experiences during the retreat from Dunkirk, it seemed the longest week of Tony’s life. His feelings alternated between elation and despair: elation at the apparent success of the mission and the obvious possibilities open to his group, despair at the knowledge of the Germans’ arbitrary reprisals. He had not been able to go into Saint Nazaire to judge the mood of the people. He worked hard with Jean-Paul on the estate, burying himself in the work. Yet always at the back of his mind was the thought of how the people were taking the German reprisals. Would the people of Saint Nazaire be opposed to further Resistance attacks against the Germans out of fear of what might happen to them and their families? Would any of the members of the group feel so guilty about what had happened that they would no longer want to work with him? As he made his way through the woods, silently following the dim figure of Jean-Paul who was leading the way to the appointed rendezvous, he wondered what the mood of the group would be.
The other three French members of the group were already waiting in the clearing when Tony and Jean-Paul arrived. Tony surveyed their faces for a moment before sitting down.
"Good evening, everyone."
The three people opposite returned his greeting then settled down to listen.
"First of all, I want to congratulate you on your excellent work last week. I'm proud of you all. Secondly, I want to know what the people of Saint Nazaire, and you, think of the German actions."
Charles shrugged. "People are angry of course, but I don't think they blame us for it."
"Are you sure?" Madeleine frowned. “Did you see the scene at the railway on Sunday? I did, and many people there were as angry with us as they were with the Germans."
"Don’t they want us to help drive the Germans out?" Charles sounded exasperated. "They seem to forget that we are at war. The Germans are our enemy. We must be prepared to make sacrifices if we are to win!"
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"Yes, but you didn’t make the sacrifice. You didn’t lose a father or brother, husband or son to the labour camps."
"Are you saying we should stop our activities?"
Madeleine turned at Tony’s question. “No, that’s not the way. Charles is right when he says that we must continue to fight until we have won, but we should be aware of the effect our actions will have on other people."
"We should be aware, but we should not feel guilty." Claude spoke for the first time. "Unlike the rest of you, the reprisals affected me directly. My nephew, my sister’s son, was taken. He is nineteen. Of course the family were angry and upset to see his name on the list, but despite his fear he said he was prepared to go, because it showed his support for the Resistance. His parents and sister are angry and afraid, but they have said that the Resistance must continue to fight. We will regain our freedom, and the enemy won’t be able to do this to us again."
There was silence for a moment as the group came to terms with what Claude had had to say, then Jean-Paul reached out a hand.
"You know that we feel for you and your family, Claude. Do you wish to leave the group?"
Claude shook his head. "That would make my nephew’s transportation and sacrifice worthless, wouldn’t it? He said that he was proud to go because that would leave the Resistance free to fight on. No, I don’t like what has happened, but I’m proud of him, and even more determined to fight the Germans now."
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